


You know, just a friendly bit of coitus.

by Katflap (Batman_in_Lingerie)



Series: Petit [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Cringe, Dialogue Heavy, Embarrassment, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Insecurity, M/M, Micropenis, Slight OOC for the sake of comedy, Strap-Ons, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batman_in_Lingerie/pseuds/Katflap
Summary: Bruce is a virgin. Clark attempts to remedy that, with varying levels of success.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Petit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921957
Comments: 63
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to the micropenis fic that realistically shouldn't exist, but does due to my own hubris. Enjoy!

When Clark entered the bedroom and saw Bruce laying across the sheets in much the same way a bird that had recently collided with an oncoming car would splay across the tarmac, he knew whatever idea Bruce had to cause this was 'moving the Earth out of the way of an asteroid' levels of bad.

“Okay. I’ll bite.” Clark began, as he set his jacket down and turned to regard Bruce in all his glory. “What are you doing?”  
  


“I’m practicing the art of seduction.” Bruce said, bringing his hand to his stomach and rather than stroke the skin there, slapped it like one would after eating a particularly hearty meal. “Is it working?”

  
  
Clark wanted to say no, but really Bruce could fall face first into wet cement, and his raw good looks would ensure that even with heaps of lumpy cement obscuring him, Clark would still find him unfairly attractive. “I mean,” Clark raised a brow, “I suppose, but then my next question would be; why are you practicing the art of seduction?”

  
“Because Clark, I wish to try something tonight.” Bruce said, sitting up on his elbows as he gestured down at his boxers.

Clark frowned. “And that is?”

Bruce didn’t answer at first, making an expression which Clark was sure was somehow meant to convey Bruce’s answer, but in reality just muddied the water further. Eventually Bruce realised he needed to use his words, and Clark was taken aback by the ones he chose to use. “Intercourse, Clark. I want to try it-- with you-- if that part also wasn’t obvious.”

  
  
Clark's mind however was taking a moment to truly process what it had heard in case there had been radio interference of some kind that might explain what he was hearing, “eh?”

  
  
When Clark’s silence crept into its third minute, Bruce sighed. “I thought you'd be a bit more excited, honestly.” He muttered as he looked down at himself. “Maybe I should have gone with different underwear? The satin would have been more seductive, I'm sure. Going with cotton… What was I thinking?”

  
“I’m- what?” Clark sputtered as he came forward. “I’m sorry, Bruce, i’m still figuring out what's going on. Did you hit your head today or inhale some pheromones you weren’t meant to? Is that it?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “No. I told you. I wish to experience 'sex'. I’ve done a lot of research whilst you were at work, and I am ready to try it.”

  
  
“Right. _Research_ .” Clark said slowly. “Was it Wikihow or Cosmopolitan that you ‘studied’ from, because if it’s either of them, it was probably very _very_ wrong information and I’ll need to correct a lot of it.” 

“Neither actually.” Bruce said, smiling in condescension. “I read about it in a book.” Bruce pointed towards the nightstand. “See, it’s just there.”

Clark reached for the book, and brought it up to his face. “‘ _A wholesome Christian guide to wholesome Christian coitus_.’” Clark read aloud, before letting go of the book like it had burned him. “Dear God, what _century_ is this from?”

Bruce perhaps realising that the book wasn’t as big of a boon as he once thought, let out a sigh. “It was all I could find on the matter in my library. I presume my parents acquired years ago to teach me on these matters when I was older but of course…” Bruce pursed his lips. “That didn’t happen, so I thought I'd look through it myself. It was rather informative, if I do say so myself.” 

“Right.” Clark sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look, i'm sure there's nothing wrong with the book, but if you wanted to know more about this stuff you could have just asked me about it. I’ve not had a ton of sex, sure, but I like to think I know enough for us to be getting on with.”

“But I wanted this to be a surprise.” Bruce said, gesturing down at his non-satin boxers for added emphasis. “If I'd have asked you, you would have known I was planning something.”

  
  
“And whilst the surprise was nice, Bruce. I also like the idea of learning this stuff from a reputable source, instead of from a book that looks like it was written before the Salem witch trials happened.'' Clark said, reaching his hand out and taking Bruce’s. 

“Maybe you have a point. I will admit the section on homosexual intercourse was just a single page with the word ‘don’t’ written across it.”

  
  
Clark’s disdain grew. “Maybe we should burn the book, just to be sure.”

“Haha.” Bruce said with a roll of the eyes, falling back onto the bed, though he kept his hand firmly in Clark’s.

Clark trailed his thumb across Bruce’s knuckles. “Sorry this didn’t turn out how you wanted, babe.”

  
  
“That's probably for the best, I honestly didn't have much prepared.” Bruce said as he looked up to the ceiling. “I thought i’d be okay once we got into it, but then again, I still haven’t figured out the… ‘mechanics’ of it all and that has not helped my nerves in the slightest.”

“Yeah, I can imagine there is a lot your book missed out on.” Clark said falling onto the mattress beside Bruce. “Luckily for you, I’ve had sex, and I am pleased to tell you that homosexual intercourse still involves most of the same sexual organs, it just throws in a few new fun orifice to play around with.”

“What a horrifying way of putting it.” Bruce said, turning his head slightly to Clark’s. “I will say that is where most of my nerves are stemming from, specifically.”

  
  
“Which part? The orifice or the organ?”

  
  
Bruce rolled his eyes as he looked away. “You know which.”

  
  
“Do I?” Clark said, shifting up closer to Bruce and lifting himself up onto his elbow to better see his face. “Enlighten me.” 

“My penis.” Bruce said flatly. “As far as sexual organs go, it will do little more than press against your orifice, and we both know it.”

“Well, I mean.” Clark pressed his lips together. “We could always, you know…” Clark gestured between the two of them. “Flip it around. I could press my-”

  
  
“I don't want to do that.” Bruce said simply.

  
Clark looked at his face, and despite not looking directly at him, Clark could see his careful blank expression for what it was. Frustration. “Bruce, you don't need to be-”

  
  
“No, you don't get it.” Bruce said, the mask slipping away fully with that single sentence. “From the moment we got together I _knew_ that was how things would have to be. That I would be the one to ‘receive’,and that’s precisely why I _don't_ want to do it. It’s not a choice at that point. The decision is being forced on me.”

“Okay, so if that’s no good, we keep doing what we’re already doing.”

  
  
“But I want to try intercourse.” Bruce grumbled.

  
  
Clark let out a strained sigh. “Then we’ll try it how you want to try it.”

“But my penis...”

  
  
“So, what your saying it you want to have sex, whilst _not_ having sex.” 

Bruce thought for a moment. “Yes.”

  
  
“Oh, well, when you put it like that.” Clark said as he rolled his eyes. “Let me just consult my grand tome of infinite knowledge. I’m sure it’ll have a whole chapter dedicated to that kind of sex.” Clark cleared his throat before miming the act of lifting a book. He flipped a few pages through the air, before dramatically coming to a stop. “Oh, would you look at that. It’s blank.”

“Are you done?” Bruce said, raising a brow.

  
  
“One second, I found a chapter on what to do when your partner is being an idiot.” Clark said as he held up his finger to Bruce before enthusiastically looking down at the empty air in his hands. “It says to call them an idiot.”

Bruce’s face remained stoic.

  
  
Clark pursed his lips as he eyed him. “You’re an idiot.”

  
  
A few more seconds passed. “Now are you done?”

“I think so.” Clark said, setting down his make believe book. “It depends on if I got my point across.”

“I suppose you did.”

“Then yes. I’m done.”

“Wonderful. Though I will say we are still at the same hurdle we were at before your oh so hilarious anecdote.”

“You thought it was hilarious, huh?” Clark grinned. 

“ _Clark_.”

  
  
“Okay okay, but you do realise this ‘hurdle’ is of your own creation and is only in _your_ way. I told you I’m fine with whatever you want to do, you just need to make a decision.”

“Then I'll…” Bruce began slowly lifting himself up. “I’ll-”

“Yeah?” Clark prompted, allowing a playful smile to touch his lips.

  
  
“I'll put my penis in your orifice.” 

Despite the choice of words, Clark could feel his cock stirr as Bruce came towards him, his lips eagerly pressing against his as his hands began the task of removing Clark’s clothes. First came the shirt that was pulled open roughly, though reminded on for a while longer as Bruce couldn’t get the last button undone and rather than admit defeat, simply pretended that that was his intent from the beginning. Clark's pants were also tricky, as he’d chosen to wear jeans today, and no one, literally no one on the entire planet can take jeans off sexily. So it was up to Clark to hop from the bed and peel the denim of himself in the most alluring manner possible.

  
Whilst he was there, Clark undid the final button of his shirt and let it fall to the floor along with his pants. He then held his hands to his waist of his boxers and didn’t miss how Bruce's eyes darted to the bulge between his legs. “You ready?”

  
  
Bruce got onto his knees and came across the mattress towards him. “I'm ready. Unleash Jörmungandr.”

  
  
Clark had a feeling this was Bruce's version of dirty talk and yet the word he used was not one that Clark could ascribe as either dirty or even talk. “Yormungard?” Clark asked, frowning. “What does that mean?”

  
  
“You don't know Norse mythology?” Bruce asked, his eyes wide. “Honestly, what do they teach you in Kansas?”

  
  
“Everything but Norse mythology.” Clark quipped. “So, are you going to tell me what it means or do I have to guess?”

  
  
Bruce’s face grew pink as he looked away from Clark’s gaze. “I’m not going to explain the machinations of my mind to you, Clark. Let's just move on.”

  
  
“Yeah, no.” Clark shook his head. “I'll just Google it.”

  
  
Bruce’s mouth fell open. “Wait, no-”

  
  
But Clark was already retrieving his phone from his discarded pants, and once he was upright, he typed in what he assumed was the correct spelling for Jörmungandr, (it wasn’t, but thankfully autocorrect helped him out.) Once the page was open, he read aloud. “In Norse mythology, Yordmunder, also known as the Midgard Serpent, is a sea serpent who yada yada-” Clark muttered as he skimmed the words, and as he got further down the page he began to grin “-the serpent grew so large that it was able to surround the Earth and grasp its own tail.” Clark put the phone down, his smugness radiating off of him in droves. “Well well well. I mean, I wouldn’t say I'm _that_ big, Bruce, but hey, I'll take the compliment.”

  
  
“I meant it ironically.” Bruce huffed, still blushing.

  
“Look at you being all shy.” Clark said, stepping towards Bruce and bringing his hands out to rest them on his sides. “Want to compare my penis to any other mythological beings?” He whispered into his ear.

“Stop making fun of me.” Bruce murmured, though he didn’t push Clark away, pulling him close and allowing himself to fall back against the bed, taking Clark with him. “I was trying to be sexy.”

  
  
“Right, right ‘art of seduction’ and all that.” Clark whispered as he trailed kisses along Bruce’s jaw until he reached his lips. “Okay Bruce, you can call my penis anything you want. I won’t make fun of you.”

  
  
“Okay.” Bruce said, clearing his throat. “Then can you take your hot pecker out of your underwear for me?”

Clark stilled, and his hot pecker was doing everything to be neither of those things if his abrupt flaccidness was anything to go by. “Uh.”

  
  
“What did you not hear me? Show me your member, Clark.”

Clark didn’t hesitate in placing his hand over Bruce's mouth. “Please stop.”

  
  
“But you said-” Bruce tried to say through his hand.

  
  
“I lied.” Clark said simply.

  
  
Bruce pulled Clark’s away. “Okay, pecker, I can maybe understand, but member isn’t that bad, surely.”

  
  
“It really _really_ is, Bruce.”

“Alright fine, if you don’t like those; what about phallus?”

  
  
“Too clinical.”

  
  
“Knob?”

“Too childish.”

  
  
“Manhood?”

  
  
“Too Danielle Steel.”

“What about-”

  
  
“Bruce I am telling you; dick slash cock are the only two words you can use that will not make my dick slash cock retreat back into me.”

“Alright fine, so sue me for trying to add some piquancy to our venereal dalliance.”

Clark made a face. “I gotta ask, did you read a thesaurus along with your 'Christian guide to boning' today or are you just trying to flex your ‘non-Kansas’ schooling right now?”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to answer that.”

Clark however held Bruce's eyes. “You read it in the guide, didn’t you?”

He looked away. “I thought it sounded nice. Apparently I was wrong.”

  
  
“Alright, it you like the sound of it Bruce I can refer to fucking as ‘venereal dalliance’ from now on.”

  
  
“God, that word just sounds so…” Bruce grimaced. “Primal.”

  
  
“Well yeah, Bruce. Swear words are like that, and when you say them in the heat of the moment… they can sound,” Clark bit his lip. “Really hot.”

  
  
“So for my own edification; intercourse did nothing, but ‘fucking’ does?”

  
  
“Uh, yeah. Big time. Very _very_ big time.” Clark went for his jaw, making no attempts in hiding his now reemerging erection as he pressed it against Bruce. “You sound so hot when you swear, B.”

  
  
“I do?” Bruce asked, and despite his expression reading of deep thought, his hands ran across Clark as though on their own mission, separate from his mind. “I suppose I haven't sworn enough to form my own opinion on the matter.”

  
  
“You can form an opinion another time, ‘cause right now I think we need to do something about ‘Yodmurder,’ if you know what I mean.”

  
“That’s not-” Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, never mind, I can educate you on the correct pronunciation another time.” 

The image of Bruce ‘educating’ him, shouldn’t have hit Clark as hard as it did, but of course what he was envisioning for that particular lesson was far more x-rated than any lesson on Nordic pronunciations ever would be. Clark pulled back, nodding rapidly. “Yeah, I think I need you in me, asap.”

  
  
That at least caused Bruce to react, and thankfully in a way that did everything to stoke Clark’s erection further. He swallowed, that same shy look on his face and Clark thought he changed his mind, but no, in a swift movement, he pushed Clark to the side and crawled on top of him, peering down at him with a sly smile.

He didn’t say anything. Perhaps having learnt that dirty talk was not his strong suit, in the slightest. His actual talent as it turned out was his unspoken confidence. As he moved and reached for the lubricant in the bedside table, he looked at ease, as though they had done this time and time again. Even the way he looked at Clark, with half lidded eyes and an easy smile, exuded the same level of confidence that he would show at a gala, surrounded by the Gotham elite, and here he was directing that intensity solely on Clark.

The weight of it was enough to make Clark practically jolt when Bruce brought his hand to his thigh, easing it up to allow him to get to his ass. He pressed his finger inside after a few strokes of the skin there, and Clark had to take a moment to understand what exactly he was feeling. It was a unique, to say the least. It didn't feel bad, and honestly, that was all he could hope for as Bruce kept moving his finger. 

Whilst he knew he wasn’t the Don Juan of sex, he knew compared to Bruce he may as well have been an expert with a degree in the field. Despite his outward confidence, Clark could tell Bruce was operating with some very limited information, (the single word 'don't' sprung into Clark's mind), and as the seconds ticked on, Bruce did little more that simply push his index finger in and out of Clark, without really making any attempt to stretch him. Clark would have said something, had his eyes not caught Bruce's own straining erection, which, quickly reminded Clark that perhaps he didn’t need to prepped as thoroughly as first thought.

Bruce looked at him, and those eyes trailed all the way down his body, but stopped just shy of his cock. “It might be easier if you were on your knees for this.”

  
  
“Oh?” Clark asked, staring down at himself and then back at Bruce.

“Yes, well, if you're facing me, you can, you know--” Bruce pursed his lips, “--see me.”

  
  
“Right, and seeing you whilst we had sex would just be an abhorrent crime. I should go get a sheet to cover us.”

  
  
“You know what I mean.” Bruce said, huffing.

  
  
“Bruce, come on. It's me. You don't need to be embarrassed.”

  
  
“It’s not just-” Bruce looked away, his face now most definitely crossing the line from pink to red. “I think i'd be able to get ‘more’ in if you’re on your knees.”

  
  
“More in?” Clark frowned, before the words hit him. “Oh! right, yeah, uh.” He cleared his throat as he sat up and turned himself around, jutting his ass out towards Bruce. “So is this okay?”

  
  
“Yes, this is adequate.”

  
  
“Don’t sound too excited, Bruce.”

  
  
He heard the quiet huff of laughter. “Stop being an ass.”

  
  
Clark wiggled his own at Bruce. “Nah.”

“Fine, then I suppose i’ll just need to quieten you some other way.”

  
  
Clark bit his lip in anticipation. “Ready and waiting.”

It took a moment, there was a rustling of sheets and then the feeling of Bruce’s hands on his hips. Then he was sure he felt something press against him, but that was just it-- that was _it_. That was the entirety of what he was feeling; a press. Bruce’s finger had entered him, and as Clark thought he realised he was spending far too much time wondering if Bruce was inside of him rather than knowing he was. When he felt movement, he couldn’t help it, he opened his mouth and apparently the words that were waiting to come out weren’t stopped by every single one of Clark’s good judgment filters.

“Are you, uh, in yet?” Clark asked, though he realised his mistake the moment he chanced a look over his shoulder to Bruce, whose face looked akin to someone who had witnessed an eldritch horror in the flesh and subsequently died of fright.

Quickly, the horror subsided, replaced with a pensive stare that was focused on the wall and not anywhere near Clark or their conjoined bodies. 

It was at this moment that Clark’s words began to repeat in his mind, over and over again until they were distorted to the point that they didn't even sound like Clark had said them anymore, and had instead been the words of a deranged banshee that had possessed him. “Oh my God, Bruce I didn't mean-”

“I realised now why we hadn’t tried this sooner.” Bruce interjected. “I have never wanted to die more in my life than in this moment. In fact-” Bruce pulled away from him, and after crawling off the bed, made his way to the balcony, throwing open the doors and heading for the railing.

  
  
“ _Bruce_!” Clark yelped as he rushed to him, just about managing to catch his hips before he toppled fully over. “I swear, there is dramatic and then there’s you.” He muttered as he pulled Bruce back onto his feet, turning him by the shoulders till they were facing.

“I wasn't being dramatic.” Bruce said flatly. “Allow me to die, Clark. You owe me that much.”

  
  
“Bruce, I'm so sorry, but come on, we both knew going into this you dick wasn’t going to magically grow eight inches.”

  
  
“Yes, I was aware my penis wouldn’t go through an incredible metamorphosis, but I didn't realise just how ineffectual it would actually be.” Bruce eyed him. “I was inside you and you asked me if I was _in_ yet.”

  
  
Clark winced. “And I am so sorry for that. I meant to ask if you were ‘fully’ in, because I wanted to make sure you knew you could, you know, go _all_ in, and not have to worry about being gentle with me. That's all. I promise.”

  
  
“Oh, I see.” Bruce said, his eyebrows rising high. “You thought that I was going slowly so as to not overwhelm you. Of course, it all makes sense now. In fact, with all two inches of penis I probably would have killed you had I not been careful. It’s a good thing you tried to forewarn me.”

“Alright, I get.'' Clark sighed, learning close and pressing his forehead against Bruce’s. “I’m sorry. I really am. I was an idiot, a giant Kansas educated idiot, and I am so so sorry. We can try again, if you still want to. Otherwise, I can just…” Clark trailed off, his hand going towards Bruce’s hip and resting on the bone there, hoping the gesture did something to ease the napalm that Clark had chosen to dump on this moment.

“I don’t know. I was ready to embrace death, and now that I'm still alive, I think I just want to go to bed.” He muttered as he made his way past Clark.

Clark turned his head to follow him and watched as he tucked himself into the blankets. “Bruce.”

  
The man in question poked his head out from in and amongst the blankets. His hair was mussed from the movement, but Clark still saw his eyes as they narrowed in his direction. “Are you going to join me in my cocoon of sorrow or stand there all night instead?”

He let out a breath, and the barest of smiles touched his lips. “I’m coming.” 

And whilst the evening did not end in the loss of virginity Bruce had hoped for, it did end with Clark holding him close, vowing to figure this shit show of a situation out even if it killed him. 

Okay, well maybe not _killed_ him, but even if it was a massive inconvenience, he was sure he’d do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a ride. I don't know what kind of ride, but it is most definitely one. Enjoy!

After their failure of a first attempt, Clark had been waiting for just the right opportunity for them to try again. He knew that realistically nothing could be worse than that particular bout of venereal dalliance, but the idea that somehow they were doomed to repeat the follies of that night over and over again, was something that plagued Clark’s mind every time he and Bruce lay in bed together. It was as though the potential of sex hung above them like a pregnant cloud, but no matter how much time passed it never seemed to rain.

He was hesitant, and he knew Bruce was as well. He could definitely understand why Bruce wasn’t eager to attempt any displays of seduction giving how well the first attempt went. Clark was also aware he was the one at fault here; the failure of that night due to his stupidity alone, (why, yes Clark, why don’t you ask your obviously insecure boyfriend if he’s inside of you yet, I'm sure that won't end up with him attempting to fling himself from a window. Go nuts.) 

After speaking to Bruce about it, the sting from that comment had apparently abated, and really, they could go for a second attempt at any time. Anytime at all.

  
  
Yet they didn’t. 

Until one day Clark happened upon a blog that infused him with a feeling of unbridled hope; a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t make an idiot of himself again.

After the discovery and subsequent infusion of confidence from it, it was Clark’s turn to lay in wait for Bruce. The art of seduction on full display. He wore his nicest pair of boxers (the satin ones that only had a small tear at the thigh,) and made sure that when Bruce walked in, Clark’s body alone would be enough to stoke the fires of his loins and get this ball rolling smoothly and without further incident. 

He wasn’t sure it had succeeded at first, if the way Bruce’s eyes slid down his body with the same speed a skier would down a slope of pure ice was anything to go by. He didn’t even take the time to appreciate the boxers, and focused his attention instead on the box at the foot of the bed. He frowned at it. “What's in the box?”

  
  
“A decapitated head.” Clark couldn't help but say.

Bruce only sent him a withering stare. “Is that a pop culture reference i’m too old to understand?”

  
  
“Really, Bruce? You haven’t seen Seven?”

  
  
“No, and if there is a scene with someone's head ending up in a box, perhaps it’s best I don’t.”

  
  
“That may be for the best. I did sort of spoil the whole movie with that line.”

  
  
“Wonderful. Now that we’ve established what movie we will _not_ be watching tonight, why don't you tell me what's actually in the box?”

  
  
“Why don’t you open it and find out?” Clark said, using his foot to prod at the cardboard. 

Bruce didn’t look impressed as he came towards the bed. “If I get covered in glitter and or spring snakes fly out, I will insert everything that comes out of this box into you by whatever means necessary. Do you understand?”

  
  
“Give me some credit, B. I’m not _that_ immature.” Clark said with a roll of the eyes, happy he didn’t end up going with the plan to put spring snakes inside. “Come on, just open it.” 

Finally Bruce did, and when the cardboard flaps were pushed aside, Bruce peered into the box, his face remarkably calm as he took in the its contents.

  
  
“Well?”

  
  
“It's another box.”  
  


Clark pursed his lips. “Right, but have you read the words _on_ the box?”

  
  
“I don't see any.”

  
  
“What?” Clark frowned as he sat up and crawled over to see inside. “Oh, shit.” Clark muttered, as he took the box and folded the flaps back closed. “I meant to have you open it from the other side, this is the bottom.” Clark turned the box over and then tapped the top with his hand. “There, now open it.”

  
  
Clark could tell Bruce wanted to say something, but instead settled for giving Clark one of his looks that did just as good of a job at conveying the sheer breadth of his disappointment instead. When he reached for the cardboard flaps and pulled them open this time, he gazed inside and read the words that were there aloud; “Dr. Wondergasm’s Crotch Rocket Deluxe.” 

Clark didn’t wait for Bruce as he darted forward and reached inside, pulling out the other box, and showing Bruce the picture of it in action on its side. “I found a blog that talked about how good it was, and when I did some more research the reviews for it on the whole were really positive. So, I went to the store, and when I asked the lady that worked there, she said it’s made for men with smaller ‘equipment.’ It has a little vibrator in the cup and you can attach another in the back for the ass, and in another location for those with the extra orifice. It truly is the future of strap-on technology. At least, that’s what it says on the box.” Clark said brightly as he pointed at the words. “I figured we could try it out. What do you think?”

  
  
Bruce’s eyes were narrowed. “You brought me a strap-on.”

  
  
“Yup.”

  
  
“You conducted research, went to a sex store, spoke to a sales associate, and brought a strap on from her.”

“I also may have brought the candy underwear she recommended too, just out of curiosity.” Clark made a face. “To be honest I may have brought everything she recommended. She was really convincing.”

  
“Clark, you…” but Bruce didn’t finish the sentence, looking down into the now empty box and away from Clark’s inquisitive gaze. Clark thought he might just not speak, ignore him and pretend he didn’t exist or do something else equally as ‘Bruce’ but eventually Clark heard something. 

“Thank you.” He muttered under his breath.

  
  
“Sorry, Bruce?” Clark said, bringing his hand to his ear. “I didn't catch that?”

  
  
“I said fuck you.” 

“Right, that's what I thought you said.” Clark nodded as he set the box he was holding down and pushed the other off the bed entirely. He came forward on his knees until he reached Bruce and brought his hands to his hips. “So, are you ready to try the Crotch Rocket?”

  
  
“You’re having far too much fun saying that.” 

  
“Until I saw those words, I didn't realise how dull my life was without them. Now that I know they exist, I don’t ever want to forget them.” He closed his eyes. “Crotch Rocket.” He whispered.

Bruce was trying to look serious, but slowly a smile began to peak out. “Then I suppose it’s ‘time for lift off.’” 

Clark’s eyes blew wide as he grinned. “T minus, ten seconds to boning.”

“I think ten seconds is a bit presumptuous Clark, I haven't even gotten the thing on yet.”

  
  
“I mean, it can’t be _that_ complicated.”

  
  
Turns out Clark should have listened to the sales woman when she said the Crotch Rocket wasn’t the best model for beginners, but ‘Dr Wondergasm’s Beginners Strapon’ didn’t have the same ring to it, besides, he didn’t think it would be that hard to actually put on a strap-on, he figured it was case slipping on a harness and slapping on the dildo and then they’d be set, but of course Clark should have known it would't be that easy.

  
“It's chafing.”

  
  
“Bruce, I think it's meant to be like.”

  
  
“What? It’s meant to chafe my groin? Is that what the kids are into nowadays? Friction burns?”

  
  
“Is it really that bad? I can loosen the strap around your waist but then it's gonna be too loose, and flop around all over the place.”

  
  
“What does the manual say?”

  
  
“Bruce, please, no one reads manuals.”

  
  
“I do.” He said indignantly. “They tend to hold relevant information, and might tell us why this thing is chafing my genitals right now.”

  
“She is not a ‘thing’, she is the Crotch Rocket. Treat her with respect.”

  
  
“Fine, to amend, i'm going to throw you or the Crotch Rocket out of the window in T minus ten seconds unless you hand me the Goddamn manual.”

  
  
“God, _fine_ .” Clark huffed as he hopped off the bed. He found the discarded box, and after rifling through the packing insulation, found the slim black manual and handed it to Bruce. “Read it then, but I really don't see how a manual is going to-”

  
  
“It's the wrong way round.”

  
  
“What?” 

  
“I thought the crotch felt odd, it’s not the cup, it’s where the anal vibrator attaches.” Bruce looked down at himself. “It also explains why there is no room in here for even _my_ genitals.”

  
  
“If it's backwards, then why does the dildo attach there?”

  
  
“It's for a tail.” Bruce said, going back to the manual.

  
  
“A _what_ ?” Clark balked as he looked closely at the harness, he twisted off the loosely attached dildo and placed it on the bed. Slowly, his confusion and disbelief left him and he nodded at Bruce’s words. “Actually, now that you mention it, the lady did say there was a kitty set to go along with this, but I figured it was just a ‘Hello Kitty’ branded thing.”

  
  
“Right, because Hello Kitty would definitely be in the adult toy market.” Bruce muttered.

“I mean, _I_ would buy it.” Clark pursed his lips. “I mean, I _did_ buy it. Though I gotta say I’m a little disappointed it isn’t actually going to be Hello Kitty themed.”

  
  
Bruce put down the manual. “Why would you buy it in the first place?”

  
  
“I told you! The sales lady was really good. She kept saying I must be a good boyfriend to be buying all this stuff for you, and well, after she said that I just kept putting things in my basket.” 

“So she fed your ego, and subsequently took advantage of the fact you’re an idiot?”

  
  
“Uh, _no_ , she said I was really savvy and a smart shopper, actually.” Clark said, crossing his arms with a smug smile.

Bruce sighed, bringing his hand to his face. “Just how much money did you spend there?”

  
  
“I'm not at liberty to say, but if you see me eating canned beans for the next month, you mind your own business.” 

“Like Hell am I letting you eat _more_ beans; you already make my bedroom smell like an army latrine.”

“Then I guess I'm gonna starve, Bruce. I’ll starve to death without a penny to my name and then you’ll be at my funeral, wishing I would come back to life, but your wish won’t come true and you’ll have to deal with the fact that I died because of _you_ .”

  
  
“Because I wouldn’t let you eat an inordinate amount of beans.”

  
  
“Exactly.”

Bruce thought for a moment. “I think I’m okay with that.”

  
  
Clark frowned. “Bruce, do you not understand, my death would be _your_ fault.”

  
  
“Right, I heard you the first time, I'm just saying I can deal with that on my conscience.”

  
“Try saying that to my dead body at the funeral.”

  
  
“Oh, I’ll do more than say it to your body, I already have your whole eulogy planned out.” Bruce cleared his throat. “Clark Kent, died as he lived; being an idiot.”

  
  
“You’d say that to my friends and family-- my grieving mother-- at my funeral?”

“I'd go further. I’d make copies of my speech and hand them to everyone in attendance. I'd also use that photo I took at the Christmas party to commemorate you. You know the one, you were holding a sprig of baneberries instead of mistletoe and kept approaching people and waving it in their face and couldn't understand why everyone kept hitting you away.”

“I was so drunk.” Clark closed his eyes. “Where did I even get baneberries from?”

  
  
“To this day, I don’t know. You showed up at the party with them and they weren’t even in season, so God knows where you actually got them from.”

  
“Pa spiked the eggnog hard that year. I'm surprised I even got to the Christmas party with how hard it was to, you know, walk.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you managed it as that photo of you is going to be everywhere at your funeral. I’m thinking of banners, posters, and even commemorative tote bags for the guests to take home with them.”

  
  
“Tote bags, huh?” Clark made a face as he thought. “Could I get one?”

  
“You’d be dead, Clark. Why would you need a tote bag?”

  
“Yeah, yeah, I come back to life or something ‘cause I do actually _need_ a new tote bag. My last one broke when the store had a sale on melons.” Clark pressed his lips together. “Turns out, despite how much you can hope on the contrary, you can’t get more melons into a bag than is physically possible, no matter how much I, or anyone else, might hope otherwise.”

Bruce’s expression turned pensive. “I think I have a spare one here somewhere, you can have it. It’s not like I plan on attending any melon sales anytime soon.”

  
  
“Thanks Bruce, that would be great.”

  
“Clark?”

  
  
“Yeah?”

“Could you help me with the harness now?”

  
  
Clark looked down at the aforementioned strap on, his eyes blowing wide. Slowly the events of the day came back to Clark, and he slapped his forehead. “Right! Crotch rocket! How could I forget?”

  
“I know, especially after how profoundly the words had affected you. I thought you said you never wanted to forget them?”

  
“Hey, you distracted me.” Clark muttered as his hands went to the straps at Bruce's thighs and helped him in undoing them. “I can’t remember how exactly, but you did.”

  
  
After the harness was off, Bruce went about putting it together, correctly this time (thanks to the manual.) Once it was done, he slipped it on, and this time when Clark tightened the straps around his waist Bruce let out a soft sigh. “This feels nice.” He murmured.

  
  
“Yeah?” Clark asked. 

  
“Yes, there is actually room for my genitals now, and honestly I'm somewhat enjoying the feeling of the plug in my posterior.”

“Your balls can breathe, and your ass is loving life. Got it.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, but after taking a breath, looked to Clark. “Did you say they vibrate?”

  
  
“Yeah, hang on i'll grab the remote.'' Clark said as he reached for the small black controller on the mattress. “I think I just press this and-”

  
  
Suddenly, the sound of whirring filled the room and Bruce’s entire body seized. “ _Clark!_ ” He squealed. “Turn it _down_!” 

“But Bruce, it's on its lowest-” but when Clark looked at the controller closely, he saw that the dial was on its highest setting, not its lowest. His eyes blew wide as he turned it off completely, dropping the remote as he sent Bruce a sheepish grin. “Whoops.”

  
  
“You utter-” Bruce turned to him, his face beet red as it shone with sweat. “You could have killed me!”

  
  
“I don't think you could have died from that, Bruce. Maybe a heart attack at most, but death seems a little extreme.”

  
  
“I'll show you extreme.” Bruce ground out before lunging at Clark, his mouth colliding against Clark’s so hard he worried he’d chipped a tooth. 

Clark couldn’t deny, he was still getting used to this side of Bruce. Rarely, did he let his carefully manicured veneer slip away, and allow this part of himself on show. Despite the fact that their time as a couple was now entering into its third month, their relationship always seemed to hold this surreal edge to it, as though not _really_ a relationship and more a series of coincidental meetings. Clark just so happened to sleep in the same bed as Bruce, eat dinner with him every night, and suck his dick and have his own fellated in return. Everything was done in a very friendly, coincidental manner. Not at all like any other relationship Clark had ever experienced before. 

That wasn’t a bad thing, though. Clark liked the ease of their relationship. There was no awkward adjustment period, no time spent trying to figure the other out. It was just two friends going from being just friends to being something more, though that ‘more’ was something that had yet to truly be quantified. Still, Clark had to admit he liked this a whole lot better than what he was used to. 

When Bruce pulled back, his face red and lips swollen, he took a moment to catch his breath. He cleared his throat, but that did little to prevent the hitch in his voice when he spoke. “How was that?”

“Good.” Clark said with a bob of the head. “Very good. Yormungander is very impressed.”

  
  
“Clark, for the last time it’s Jörmungandr. Jormun. _Gandr_.”

“Yeah, yeah, point is I think we need to send the Crotch Rocket on its maiden voyage.”

A flash of unease touched Bruce’s face. “You’re definitely sure about this?”

Clark didn't answer that question directly, opting instead to fall back onto the mattress and splay himself in front of Bruce as seductively as possible. He forgot there were still some errant unused pieces of the Crotch Rocket on the bedding, but he hoped Bruce didn’t notice his wince when he felt one of the plugs jam into his back.

  
“I take that as a yes.” Bruce said with a small smile as he reached for the bottle of lubricant nearby. He poured some on his hand and made sure his fingers were aptly coated as he brought them down to Clark’s ass. He slid one finger in, and began the same methodical movements he had done before.

  
Clark wouldn’t have minded if he knew much like last time what he’d be receiving would be the same width and length of Bruce’s finger. But that was not the case. Clark was going to have a Crotch Rocket inside of him. All eight inches of it. So as Bruce kept moving, Clark sat up on his elbows (and in the same movement, managed to remove the plug from underneath him) and looked to Bruce. “You’re gonna need to stretch me more, babe.”

  
  
“Isn’t that what i'm doing?” Bruce asked, pausing his movements.

“Uh, no, you’re just sort of finger fucking me.'' Clark made a face. It felt nice, he couldn’t deny, but that was it, there was no burn, no stretch, just a pleasant glide. “You need to sort of make a scissoring motion with your fingers.”

  
  
“Like,” Bruce began, bringing his hand back only to press into Clark with his middle finger joining the mix. There was immediate pressure, and Clark had to take a breath to school himself as Bruce began to slide his hand back and forth, “this?”

“Scissor motions, Bruce.”

  
  
“Right.” Bruce muttered, trying to move his fingers and succeeding in doing little more than twitch them to and fro. “I feel like i'm doing this wrong.”

  
  
“Not really.” Clark said, falling back against the bed, this time sans vertebrae displacement. “You’re doing good. You could maybe even try a third finger.”

  
  
“I don't think I could get a third in.'' Bruce said as he stared at Clark’s anus with far more scrutiny than Clark had ever had aimed there. “Are you sure?”

  
  
“Try it.” Clark said with a shrug. 

Bruce did, but he couldn’t get his fingers past the first knuckle. That was okay for their purposes however, the burn and stretch did enough to get Clark's body and mind ready for what it was about to receive. Eight inches of Crotch Rocket.

“I think i’m good.'' Clark let out. 

Bruce's hand stilled and he pulled it out. He then reached for the bottle again, this time coating the dildo on his front liberally in it. 

Clark could see his mind whirling, could see the trepidation in his body. Clark wanted to comfort him, to tell him it would all be okay or something else as equally sickly sweet, but when his mouth opened, he instead said; “Crotch Rocket, this is Huston, all systems are go.”

He expected Bruce to roll his eyes, to maybe laugh outright, but instead he sent him a shy smile. “Huston, this is Crotch Rocket, roger that. Ready for launch T minus ten.”

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six-”

  
  
“Clark, you don't need to do the full count down.”

  
  
“Then you should have said T minus five, Bruce.”

  
  
“Alright, T minus five.”

  
  
“You know, I’d already have finished right now if you didn’t interrupt.”

  
  
Bruce made a face. “One. We have to lift off.”

  
  
And they did. After saying those words, Bruce pressed forwards, and after feeling the initial inch of the Crotch Rocket, Clark immediately knew he should have gone with the beginners model. Even if it had the less flashy name, the beginners model looked manageable, the Rocket however, didn’t seem to have an end. Bruce kept on sliding more and more in, and at what he assumed was only the halfway point, Clark could no longer speak, his mind and mouth making the agreement to only communicate in guttural grunts.

It felt like hours he was in this stare. Time no longer existed, going static and freezing as his anus was ripped apart by his own hubris. Eventually he felt Bruce come to a stop. He was fully inside of him, and some small part of Clark’s mind managed to remember speech, but sadly all it ended up sending to Clark’s mouth for the purposes of communication was as breathy. “Noooo.”

  
“No?” Bruce said, frowning. “Clark, do you want me to pull out?”

  
  
“Noooo.”

"You don't want me to pull out?”  
  
  
“Nooooo.”

  
  
“Clark, can you please say something other than ‘no.’”

  
  
“No-”

  
  
“Nevermind, forget I asked.” Bruce sighed, reaching forward and swiping the sweat locks of hair from Clark’s face and revealing the down right criminal grimace he wore. “Jesus, are you okay?”

  
  
Clark almost said no as it was the only thing his mind was programmed to say in that moment, but instead he managed to find some other words. “It's so big, Bruce. It's like you shoved a cactus into me.”

  
  
Bruce’s face was awash with concern. “Do you want me to pull out?” 

“No. It’s just-” Clark tried to take a deep breath, but somehow it was like the dildo was filling up his chest cavity and he couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. “Why did I get the deluxe?” He mumbled to himself. “I should have brought the beginners. I’m so fucking dumb.”

  
“Clark, I really think I should take this out of you. You look like you're an inch from death.”

  
  
“Oh, I am. You put one more inch into me, I will die. Here and now.”

  
  
“I suppose it’s a good thing i'm fully in, then.” Bruce muttered as he reached his hand out and grazed it against Clark’s cock. “I don't think I have ever seen you so flaccid.”

  
  
“That's because all the blood is in my anus.”

  
  
“That's it, I'm pulling out.”

  
  
“Noooo.” Clark said, this time managing to not sound like a deflating balloon when he said the word. “I’m kidding. I just need to get used to it. I've never had something this big in me before Bruce, my body just needs time to get used to it.”

  
  
“How much time do you need?”

  
  
“A fortnight, maybe a month.” Clark let out a breath. “Although, if it takes a year I won't be surprised.”

In the end, it didn't take that long. It felt like it did, with time moving like molasses, but in reality it only took ten minutes for Clark to not feel five seconds away from death. Those ten minutes were spent with Bruce idly trailing his finger across Clark’s midsection, whilst Clark himself distracted his mind by counting each individual lump of stippling on the ceiling. Once the aching fullness in his ass subsided, it made room for something that Clark didn't actually think he’d be experiencing tonight; pleasure.

It was fleeting, but it was definitely there and after those ten minutes were over, Clark took a breath and eyed Bruce. “I think you can try moving now.”

  
  
Bruce didn’t respond at first, too distracted by drawing into Clark’s belly. Once he’d registered Clark had spoken, he seemed to jolt awake. “You sure?”

  
  
“Yeah, go for it.” 

He did, pulling back gently and once he was mostly out, driving back in. For a horrifying moment Clark felt like the ache would return in full force, careening into him and knocking him into a stupor for another ten minutes, but it didn't, instead when Bruce slid back in, Clark felt his cock twitch as he let out a shuddery breath. Bruce paused, and Clark knew he was waiting for him to speak. “I'm good, keep going.” 

Bruce pulled back, and this time as he came forward added a little more power to his thrust. Clark was barely aware of what was going on anymore, his mind now very much occupied with the feeling in his ass. He knew Bruce reached for something as he thrust and it was when Clark heard that same whirring from earlier that he realised what exactly it was. 

Clark didn't feel much of the vibrations, but he didn't really need them with the overwhelming girth of the Crotch Rocket inside of him already. Anything else on top of that would have been overkill, and as it stood Clark still felt on the edge of death as Bruce fucked him. 

At first his movements were sloppy, ill timed and with little finesse, but perhaps it was some instinctual aspect of his mind, or the vibrator in his cup sending him into overdrive, but it didn’t take long for Bruce's thrusts to grow more measured and far more intense.

Clark tried to speak, something along the lines of ‘oh, hey this is feeling really good,’ but language had vacated his mind once more, leaving that same lonely brain cell to produce incomprehensible gibberish instead. It didn't really matter, as Bruce was on the same page Clark was on in that regard, and even though they were only sharing half words, their intent and meaning were well understood.

_‘The Crotch Rocket is blowing my fucking mind right now, Bruce.’_

_‘I can see that. Just so you know, this cup is a gift from God.’_

He could feel he was close, knew Bruce was too as his breathing became more laboured and reedy. Clark wanted to try and savour the moment for a bit longer, but when he heard Bruce cry out, falling forward and grinding the Rocket just so into Clark, his eyes blew wide as he too came.

His whole body writhed, and the scream he made was on par with the ones that were usually reserved for bouts with Kryptonite. He didn't even know where it had come from, but after it was out of his body, his muscles subsequently deflated and Clark became one with the mattress. He spread his arms out wide and took in a deep breath. “Oh. My. God.” He let out, his eyes stinging with either his own sweat or tears. “That was amazing.”

  
  
“Yeah.” Bruce said, but Clark didn't have time to dissect why Bruce sounded so flat. He was too busy riding his high.

“I mean it, when you hit my prostate I saw stars. I pledge allegiance to the Crotch Rocket.”

  
  
“Uh huh.” Bruce added distractedly.

Clark finally bit the bait and sat up. “You okay?”

  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I just.” Bruce looked at Clark, his frown evident. “Uh.”

  
  
Clark tilted his head to the side. “What?”

  
  
“Something went wrong.”

  
  
“How wrong?” Clark said, frowning. “Whatever it is Bruce, I'm sure it will be fine. Just pull out and we’ll-”

  
“That’s uh.” Bruce made a face, pulling back and sitting on his knees. “That's the problem.”

  
  
“What do you-” but it then dawned on Clark that he and Bruce were not actually connected despite the fact he could still _feel_ something in his ass. Clark stared at the point that they had once been attached and was left staring at a small stump of a dildo. “What the _fuck_ .”

  
  
“When you came, you clenched so hard you must have.... You know...” Bruce pointed to the broken dildo on his front. “You snapped it off.”

  
  
“I did _what_ ?” Clark yelled. “What the fuck-- _how_ the fuck-- Bruce, are you telling me the Rocket is still _inside_ me?”

  
  
“Considering it's currently not attached to the harness anymore, I’d say yes, it’s still inside you.”

  
  
Clark reached around himself and touched his ass, fighting back vomit when he only felt the puckered skin of his anus. “Oh my fucking God. It's in me. It's _inside_ of me, how the hell do I get it out. _Bruce! What the fuck do I do?_ ” 

“Okay, let’s not panic, I can try and pull it out. Lay back down.”

  
  
“Yes, yes do that. Please.” Clark fell back, bringing his hands to his face and pressing them into his eyes until they burned. “Bruce, should I do something?”

  
  
“You can try bearing down on it. You know… Push.”

  
  
Clark sputtered. “I am not pushing anything, God knows we don't not need to add _another_ disaster on top of this one.”

“Right, okay, then I'll just-” he could feel Bruce's fingers by his anus, but once they were in, the fault in this plan quickly dawned on him and Clark pulled away with a jolt.

  
“No, no you're pushing it in deeper.” Clark couldn't help it, he let out a cry. “Bruce, what the hell am I going to do? How can I live like this? ”

  
  
“I only see one solution.”

  
  
“What?”

  
  
“We’ll call my doctor. Leslie.”

  
  
Clark’s blood ran cold. “No. One hundred present _no_ . Absolutely not. No one else can _ever_ know about this.”

  
  
“Why not? She's a doctor, Clark, she’ll actually be able to get this out of you. I don't know what else I can do here without making it worse.” 

  
“Google it! I’m sure I'm not the first person this has happened to!” 

“Alright alright.” Bruce muttered as he reached for his phone. After a few moments of searching, he spoke. “Okay, squat in the bathtub, i'm going to make a totally unrelated phone call.” He got up from the bed, and after slipping on a robe went to leave.

  
  
“What? Bruce no, I swear if you call Leslie-”

  
  
He turned back to Clark, his expression stern. “Clark, this is serious. When I tell you that there are only three people on this planet who have seen me naked, and Leslie is one of them, I say it to assure you she is a professional and you do not need to be embarrassed. Understand?”

“But, but…” Clark couldn’t argue with that and closed his eyes. “Fine, I'll go squat in the tub.” He muttered as he made his way to the bathroom. 

In the end squatting in the tub was not as effective of a method due to how little Clark was able to actually stand. Not from the dildo or anything, he just wanted to collapse in on himself and die therefore holding himself in any sort of position like a squat was just impossible. 

His dignity was also out the window the minute he heard Bruce describe to Leslie what happened over the phone, so it was slumped on the toilet that Bruce found him. Clark couldn’t even feel the embarrassment from the moment due to how thickly it was already covering him. “How’s it going?” Bruce asked from the door.

  
  
“Great.” Clark said, slowly lifting himself back up right on the toilet and resting his face in his hands. “As you can see, I am doing phenomenally.”

  
  
“Leslie is on her way, I thought we’d head down to the Batcave given it has a private medical room.” Bruce made a face. “I thought you’d prefer this to feel as clinical as possible.”

  
  
“Right, yeah, if she could just pretend I am some nobody that would be wonderful.”

  
  
“I mean, this is the first time you’re meeting her, so she doesn’t exactly need to pretend.”

  
  
“Oh God, that's right.” Clark burrowed his face into his palms. “This is going to be our first meeting, our first meeting and she’s going to be removing a dildo from my ass.”

  
  
“There are worse first meetings, you know.”

  
  
“Name _one_.”

  
  
Bruce looked away. “I can’t think of one at the present time-”

  
  
“-because it doesn't exist.”

  
  
“No.” Bruce bristled. “Because I need time to think, in fact, I’ll have plenty of time to think about it whilst you’re with Leslie, now let's go down to the cave. She’ll be here soon.”

  
“Okay, but before I leave this toilet, where are the boys?”

  
  
“Tim is at a friends house and Damian’s asleep.”

“What about Dick and Jason?”

  
  
“Clark, they won’t just show up at the Manor unannounced, we’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

“Alfred?”

  
  
“ _Clark_.”

“Bruce, I will not leave this toilet until you-”

  
  
“He’s in the kitchen.” Bruce ground out. “Now-- let's _go_.”

Clark left the sanctity of the toilet and hobbled after Bruce. He slid on his own robe, and once he was decent as one could be with a dildo stuck inside their rectum, followed Bruce down to the cave as carefully as he could. Walking didn’t hurt per say, but he couldn’t deny that with each step it was as though all the progress gravity had made whilst he had been on the toilet was being undone and by the time he was down in the cave, he felt like he was back at square one. “Where to?” He mumbled.

  
  
“The medical room is back here.” Bruce said walking to the far side of the cave. “Usually it's where Alfred takes bullets out of me, but Leslie taking a Rocket out of you also seems apt.”

  
  
Clark’s frown only grew. “Are you really making jokes right now?”

  
  
“Under normal circumstances, you would have found that hilarious.”

  
  
“I’m sure I would have, but right now I expect sympathy and kindness and _no_ jokes, okay?”

  
  
“Right right.” Bruce said, opening the door and gesturing for Clark to go inside. “Go inside and lay on the gurney.”

  
  
Clark took a deep breath as he stepped past him into the room.

  
  
Bruce’s phone buzzed and after he looked down at it, he reached for the door handle. “Leslie’s here now, I’m going to get her. Just try and relax, I'll be right back.” He closed the door and once alone, Clark could do little more than what Bruce said. He tried to relax, and laid on the gurney in wait.

After a few minutes of laying there, he heard Bruce’s voice as well as a woman’s as they slowly approached the room. He contemplated running away, but really he knew Bruce was right, they were in over their heads and a doctor was the only course of action now. He supposed he was lucky Bruce had Leslie to call on, as Clark didn’t even want to imagine what this experience would be like at Metropolis General.

“Clark, we’re coming in now.” He heard the door creak open, as Bruce peered in. “Are you ready for us?”

  
  
“Sure, come on it.” Clark said, waving his hand. 

Bruce stepped inside, and beside him was who Clark had to assume was Leslie. They had never met, but from how Bruce described her he didn’t know what he expected but the petite elderly woman before him was somewhat of a surprise. If anything she reminded him of his mother, and the moment that thought entered his mind, he wished he were able to inject bleach directly into his frontal lobe. “Hello, Dr…”

  
  
“Thompkins.” She said, bringing her hand out. Clark took it. “Though you can call me Leslie, Bruce has informed me…” but she trailed off and brought her other hand up to her glasses to readjusted them. “Wait a moment, are you…” she frowned but slowly that expression left, replaced with quiet awe. “ _Superman_ ?”

  
  
Clark’s face flooded with blood, as he let go of Leslie and whirled on Bruce. “You didn't tell her who I _was_ ?”

  
  
“I told her you were my boyfriend, Clark.” Bruce said before pausing. “Looking back, I perhaps should have given a few more descriptors and maybe how exactly we knew each other, but we are where we are.”

  
  
“Wonderful.” Clark sighed. “Yes Leslie, I am indeed Superman, but you can call me Clark. Pleased to meet you. If I spontaneously combust from embarrassment, I’m sure you can understand why.”

Leslie gave him a friendly laugh as she batted her hand in his direction. “Oh, come now, no need to be embarrassed. This isn’t my first time removing a dildo from an anus.” She paused, her face growing thoughtful. “It is the first time I’m removing it from a superhero's anus, however.”

  
  
“Wonderful, glad I could help you check that off your list.” Clark lay back on the gurney. “Can we get started? As you can probably imagine, I want this to be over with as quickly as humanly possible.”

“It's quite a simple procedure luckily, but it does require sedation.” Leslie turned to Bruce, and without a word spoken between the two, Bruce left the room and returned not long after holding a tray. Leslie lifted a needle, and paused by Clark’s arm before slowly injecting the needle in with ease. “You'll start to feel drowsy in a few moments, Clark. Don't try and fight it and you should-”

  
  
But Clark was already gone. The moment he realised that falling unconscious meant he could be done living as a man with a dildo stuck up his ass, he did so. He didn’t actually know how much of that was down to the sedative and how much was his own will power.

The point was, when he next awoke, he realised that despite the soreness of his rear, he was indeed no longer a man with a dildo up his ass, and was finally just a man once more. He almost cried, but managed to hold back his tears when he saw Bruce slumped in one of the chairs beside his gurney. Leslie was nowhere to be found, and a quick scope around the manor told him she was no longer here. 

He brought his hand forward and nudged it against Bruce, he jolted upright and sent a bleerly look Clark's way. “You're up.”

  
  
“How long was I out?” Clark asked, trying to get sense for what time it was but failing.

  
  
“Just over an hour. I was quite tired from tonight's activities, and figured I’d rest my eyes whilst you were unconscious.”

  
  
“And Leslie?”

  
  
“She left not long after getting the Rocket out of you. She was going to dispose of it by the way, but I thought you might want to keep it for posterity.”

  
  
Clark wanted to say he wanted to be rid of the thing, but couldn’t. Instead he asked, “Where is it?”

  
  
Bruce pointed to the other side of the gurney, and on the metal tray Clark saw the Rocket, broken and defeated. He felt fresh tears at his eyes, but didn't know why they were there. His emotions were all over the place from this evening, that was for sure. He let out a shallow breath as he looked back to Bruce. “At least it's over now.”

  
  
Bruce hummed, giving a small nod. “Until we try again, that is.”

  
  
Clark groaned, falling back against the gurney. “I can't even _think_ about that right now.”

  
  
“Speaking of; do you want to know what I was thinking about whilst you were unconscious?”

  
  
“What's more embarrassing than this?”

  
  
“Oh no, I was thinking about stuff that was actually important.”

  
  
“Right, of course.” Clark rolled his eyes, “and what might that be exactly?”

  
  
“If i’d had a normal sized penis, tonight would have been far _far_ worse.”

  
  
“What do you-” Clark began, before the image Bruce implied splattered across his mind in vivid detail. “Oh. I didn't even think of that.”

  
  
“You would have _dick_ -capitated me.”

Clark closed his eyes, willing the image from his mind. “That would have been more than horrifying, yes.”

  
  
“But that's just it, that _didn’t_ happen due to one simple reason; the size of my penis. The only reason I was not injured tonight was because of that.”

  
  
“What's your point, Bruce?”

  
  
“My point is, if I had been anatomically gifted from birth, your anus would have seen to that no longer being the case. The fact that my penis was so small, saved me from an agony that I don’t even want to fathom.” Bruce grew pensive. “And I suppose, I am somewhat thankful for that.”

“Yeah, I guess when you look at it like that.” Clark sent him a smile. “It is a good thing.”

  
  
“And something else I’ve come to terms with, is that I never want to subject you to this ever again.”

  
  
“Oh, never say never Bruce, we might just need to invest in titanium dildos or something but you're a billionaire, right? You can make that happen.” 

“I suppose I could do that, but I thought it would be easier, and cheaper, for me to just receive from now on, or at least try it and see what I think.” 

“But….” Clark frowned. “You said-”

  
  
“I _said_ , I didn't want to do it when I felt like I had no choice. You afforded me the opportunity to choose, Clark. I tried topping, and it ended up with you in a gurney, I think it's only fair I try it myself and see what I think.”

  
  
“You're sure about that?” Clark said, his concern evident. “I don't want you to feel pressured into doing this.”

  
  
“Nonsense, this is my decision. I am the one choosing to do this.”

“Okay, Bruce. If you say so.” Clark smiled. “Hey, as long as you don't somehow dick-capitate me, we should be fine.”

  
  
Bruce smirked. “I'll stop doing my kegel exercises, just to be safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took on its own life. When I get into the swing of writing, things just happen, and I cannot tell you how or why. I will say I had a lot of fun, as I always do, writing Clark and Bruce's banter. If I could just write scripts of them sassing back and forth, I would. 
> 
> Anyway, it was as I was writing this chapter that I realised I wanted this to be 3 chapters instead of 2. You can probably imagine what the 3rd chapter is going to be about, and you can also probably imagine-- if the first 2 chapters are anything to go by-- how it will turn out ;D
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. If you enjoyed these boys shenanigans, be sure to let me know! Until next time :D


	3. Chapter 3

Clark wanted to say their next foray into the bedroom would be as planned for as the previous two attempts, but in reality it was spur of the moment decision. So spur of the moment in fact, that it was only as Bruce sat reading beside him in bed, wearing glasses he swore he didn't need yet always wore when fine print was involved, that Clark turned to him.

  
  
“You wanna do it?”

  
  
Bruce’s face didn’t change for a moment. Clark knew he was waiting until he finished the page, and when he reached its end, he slipped his book mark in and set it down before turning to Clark. “What?” He asked.

  
  
“I said, do you want to, you know…” Clark wiggled his eyebrows.

  
  
Bruce’s expression remained impassive. “Why?”

  
  
“Why?” Clark repeated, making a face. Why did he want to have sex tonight, exactly? Was it the glasses? No, Bruce wore them every night he read. The pajamas? They were satin, so that was a possibility. Was it just that tonight felt right? Clark didn't actually know the answer to Bruce's question, so settled on the tried and true answer to quandies of the unknown. “I dunno.”

  
  
Bruce let out a sigh. “Then, I don't really see a point.”

  
  
“You know you don't need to have a point to have sex, right?”

  
  
“You do need some sort of ‘point’.” Bruce muttered, and Clark knew he was trying with all his might to not smile. 

“I’m just saying,” Clark said, “that we can just do it. We don't need to wait for the stars to align or for angels to fly down with banners held high, that say ‘go for it'. We can just, you know. Bone.”

  
  
“I am aware of that, but as I stated with my hilarious pun-- that I really don't think you’re giving me enough credit for-- why should we have sex if neither of us are aroused?”

  
“Who says I'm not aroused?” 

“If you were, you would have stated as much when I asked you why. Instead you reponsded with the ever helpful ‘I dunno.’”

“You’re right, let me just try this again.” Clark cleared his throat, before reaching his hand out and taking Bruce’s. “I’m rock hard for you.”

  
  
Bruce took off his glasses and set them on the nightstand. “I can literally see that is not the case.”

  
  
“How do you know, this blanket could just be really really heavy.”

  
“Huh, then your penis must be far stronger in the mornings, as it never seems to have an issue with the blanket then.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “I guess it’s just tired tonight.”

“Then I suppose it shouldn’t be having sex, should it?” Bruce said easily as he went to pick up his book and glasses once more.

  
  
Clark sat up and managed to pull Bruce’s attention away before he could do that. “Look, if you don't want to have sex, that’s fine Bruce, but you can just say that rather than be an ass about it.”

  
  
That struck a nerve it seemed. Bruce sat back, arms crossed. “How exactly was I acting like an asshole?”

  
  
“I said, an _ass_ , not an asshole. They are completely different, Bruce.”

  
  
“ _Clark_.”

  
  
“But to answer your question. I'm just saying that most people would have answered _my_ question with a ‘I'm not in the mood’ or a ‘not tonight’ rather than make me sound like an idiot for not phrasing the request in the most 'eloquent' of ways.”

  
  
“Well, that's because…” Bruce pursed his lips as he looked away. “I wasn’t exactly... _opposed_ to the idea.”

  
  
Clark couldn't help it, his expression read only of confusion. “Then why the Hell were you making this so much more difficult than it had to be?”

  
  
“To go from you trying to tantalise me with your body the first time, to asking me quite brashly if I wanted to ‘do it’ tonight, was enough of a reason. I expected the drop in theatrics to occur at some point in our relationship, of course, but for it to happen so quickly was a bit of a disappointment.”

  
  
“Oh, I get it.” Clark said, smirking. “You want me to ‘woo’ you again. Give you the ole Kent charm.”

Bruce’s blush said it all. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I have just the thing.” Clark murmured with a wink as he slid off the bed. He scurried to the closet, and knew Bruce’s hawk like gaze was on him the entire time. Bruce knew what Clark kept in the closet, the items in question had found their home there ever since Clark had spent a sizable portion (re: his entire) salary at the sex store. Which particular item Clark was rummaging for however, was as of yet unknown to Bruce. 

He didn’t let Bruce see what he’d grabbed and hid it behind himself as he walked into the bathroom. “No peeking.”

  
  
“Says the man with supervision.” Bruce mumbled.   
  


By the time Clark had put on his surprise, he was wondering if this was as good of an idea as he thought he was. As he wondered this, the voice of the sales assistant that had helped him in the store, came to his mind. _‘Edible underwear never fails to liven the mood.’_

Clark trusted those words, for better or for worse, and opened the door to the bathroom, sauntering out so his hips swayed from side to side, and when he was close to the bed, he jutted his pelvis out with his hands on his hips. “Tada.”

  
  
Bruce’s eyes were trained on the candy across his penis, which wasn’t doing that great a job of covering him (he should have brought the bigger size, but didn’t.) “Good lord.” He mumbled.

  
  
“I know right…” Clark smirked. “Pretty sexy.”

  
  
“That is not one of the words I would ascribe to what you are wearing.” 

“What?” Clark looked down at himself, but when he saw only his handsome penis decked out in even handsomer underwear, he really couldn’t see Bruce's point. “What's wrong with them?”

  
  
“It's a thong…” Bruce said slowly. “Made out of candy.”

  
  
“Yeah, best of both worlds!” Clark turned around, showing the string of the thong tucked between his cheeks. “The sexiness of a thong meets the tastiness of candy. Innovation at its finest.”

  
Bruce still didn’t look impressed, in fact his grimace was growing more severe if that were even possible. “Who on earth would eat candy that has been so close to someone's anus?”

  
  
Clark sighed. “Bruce, you have literally sucked my cock.”

  
  
“Your penis is very different from your ass. For one thing a certain substance is not regularly excreted from your penis.”

  
  
Clark narrowed his eyes. “You saying I don't clean myself properly down there?”

  
  
Bruce looked away. “I didn't say that.”

  
  
“I had skid marks _once_ , and you act like I don't wipe _ever_.”

“...Well _I’ve_ never had skid marks.”

  
“Well, I'm sorry my anus isn’t as perfect as yours. The point is, my anus is currently very clean and the candy beside it is very tasty.” Clark brought his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed the skin there. “I _may_ have eaten a few of the candies whilst I was putting it on...”

  
  
“So if I am to understand this correctly, you want me to eat candy off of you genitals, and that is supposed to be your method of ‘wooing’ me?” Bruce crossed his arms. “I really don’t see how this is supposed to get us into the mood.”

  
  
Clark rolled his eyes. “Can we at least try it before you shoot it down?”

  
  
“But,” Bruce made a face. “I brushed my teeth already.”

  
  
“So you can just brush them again.”

  
  
Bruce was quiet for a moment. He let out a breath. “Fine.”

“Your enthusiasm is palpable.” Clark deadpanned.

“Just get your candy covered cock over here.” Bruce mumbled.

Clark set his knees on the bed, and slowly made his way towards Bruce. Before reaching him, however, he paused. “Maybe you should take your pajamas off.”

Bruce wanted to object, Clark saw that in the way his mouth opened with a pop of the tongue, there was probably no actual reason he didn't want to, it was just that Bruce always wanted to say no to other peoples suggestions because he didn’t like to be told what to do. In the end he didn't say anything, only letting out another sigh as he unbuttoned his pajamas and once able to, slipped them off completely and let them slide onto the floor. Clark didn't move even after Bruce was naked, he was too busy taking it all in. Bruce sent him a glare complete with rosy cheeks. “Well?”

“You look amazing.” Clark said earnestly, coming forward. “So pretty.”

  
  
“I’m not pretty.” Bruce mumbled, but didn't try to push Clark away when his hands went to his face, pulling their lips together.

  
  
“Right right. You’re handsome. Sexy. Roguish. Not at all pretty.” _'That's a complete lie, you're the prettiest pretty boy this side of pretty city,'_ his mind supplied.

  
  
Bruce only hummed at the words, letting his lips part as Clark's tongue swiped inside. It didn't take long before Clark thought the candy thong was getting tighter but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the how's and why's. “Well, it looks like your penis isn’t as tired as I thought.” Bruce murmured against Clark's lips.

  
  
“He just needed some encouragement.” Clark said as he pulled back. “Now, want to try some candy?”

  
  
“I suppose I can try it.'' Bruce said, maneuvering himself lower. “But I warn you, if it tastes horrible I won't force myself to keep going.”

“Sounds fair.” Clark said with a series of nods. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bruce didn’t press forward right away, taking his time in assessing all the candy strings that comprised the thong. Clark could see from the look on his face that he was deciding where to start, and Clark thought he might just die of old age if the length of time Bruce was spending staring at his groin was anything to go by. Eventually those lips made contact, and Clark felt the brush of his teeth against his cock as Bruce took one of the candies between his lips, and crunched down on it.

Bruce kept his lips on Clark as he chewed the candy in slow strokes of the jaw, and Clark felt the faint movement of his lips as he did. He wanted to tell Bruce to hurry, to wolf down the candy and get some more of that contact he so desperately wanted, but as already stated, Bruce didn't like to be told what to do, and if ensuring Bruce didn't grow petulant meant Clark had to deal with his glacial pace, he would. 

Despite Clark's worries that Bruce would stop after one bite, he didn’t, moving on from one string of the candies to another. Once he reached one closer to Clarks' tip, Clark was somewhat worried about Bruce's teeth grazing against some rather 'delicate' parts of himself, but he supposed this is where Bruce's calm and calculating movements came in, as with each pass of his teeth, Clark felt the flush of anticipation, but no pain ever arrived.

Once he became fully erect, Clark had to ease the thong off to the side in order to prevent his genitals from suffocating, and Bruce himself had to take a breather. They looked towards one another, and despite how much he must have wanted to say otherwise, Bruce mumbled. “I’m aroused.”

  
  
“Yeah?” Clark said with a breathy laugh. “Did eating candies get you all hot and bothered?”

  
  
“ _You_ got me hot and bothered. The candies were merely a go between.”

  
  
“Right, right.'' Clark said, easing the thong off fully, he meant to throw them aside, but couldn't help but bring them to his own lips and begin to crunch through several of the strings at once. “I'll be right with you.” He said between chews.

  
  
Bruce rolled his eyes, but waited patiently as Clark wolfed down the candy. Once only a string remained, did he fling it to the side and press in close to Bruce. “Now, where were we?” He said.

  
“I presume you were going to prepare me for sex.”

“Right.” Clark said with a nod, pressing his lips to Bruce's jaw. “So you’re still okay with that; me topping?”

  
  
“I'm okay with trying it, we shall just have to see how it goes.”

  
  
“It can't be worse than the last time, at least.” 

“I don't know, I was thinking about what occurred _before_ your anus saw to the Crotch Rockets untimely demise.”

  
  
“And that was?” 

  
“Well, how much it seemed to hurt.”

  
  
“That's ‘cause the Crotch Rocket was pretty big, Bruce. Before that, I'd only had fingers up there.”

“But, that's it, you look a similar size to the crotch rocket, and if you struggled with it, how on Earth am I meant to.” Bruce frowned. “In fact, I'm still struggling to understand that. When I looked at the box it said the crotch rocket was eight inches.”

  
  
Clark nodded slowly. “Yeah?”

  
  
“But you said your penis was six inches.”

“Uh.” Clark made a face. “Right.”

  
  
“So either the box is lying or you are.”

“I wouldn’t say, anyone was _lying_ Bruce.”

  
  
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “So you lied.”

  
  
“No, no, I-”

“There is only one way to solve this.” Bruce said as he slipped away from Clark, towards the nightstand. “I'm going to have to measure you.”

  
  
Clark's eyes blew wide. “What, Bruce, but-” however Clark's current confusion was quietly overridden by a brand new, different bout of confusion. “Wait. Why have you got a tape measure in your nightstand?”

  
  
“Look, I don't question what you keep in your bedside cabinet, you shouldn’t question what I keep in mind.”

  
  
“Uh, that's a total lie. Last time you stayed at my place you gave me so much shit for keeping a can of soup in mine that you refused to sleep until I moved it into the kitchen.”

  
  
“Because that _is_ weird. Who keeps a can of soup in their bedroom?”

  
  
“I do! What if I get hungry during the night? Or an earthquake hits Metropolis and I'm trapped in my room and that can of soup becomes the only food source I'll have to survive on? Do you ever think of that, huh, Bruce?”

  
  
“My response to those situations are as follows, one; you would drink a cold can of soup in the dead of night if you were hungry? _Really_? And two; you’re _Superman_. You’d be the one saving the people trapped due to a highly improbable Metropolis earthquake, not be trapped yourself.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “Those are fair points, I will admit.”

  
  
“Right, so now that we’ve established you’re the weird one here, bring your penis closer so I can get an accurate measurement.”

Bruce did just that, unrolling the tape and taking one end and pressing it right into Clark’s groin before dragging the other end out towards his tip. He leant in close, scrutinising the number there and once he got his measurement, he pulled back. “I knew it.” Bruce glared at him, throwing the tape measure aside. “Six inches, my ass. You _liar_.”

  
  
Clark tried not to let the proud smile that was doing everything in its power come out on his face, and succeeded only after looking away from Bruce towards the wall. “When I’m flaccid, Bruce. That's what I was going to tell you. See, when I’m erect-”

  
  
“Oh, of course. I should have known you’d try and get by on a technicality.” Bruce sat back, crossing his arms. “Right, so putting aside the fact you _lied_ , tell me Clark, how on earth is my anus supposed to accommodate all eight inches of your horse cock?”

Clark doubted there could have been a worse time to hear a knock on the door, but there it was, and slowly both men turned their heads to the sound. Without a word being spoken, the door creaked open and Alfred’s head poked in. “Forgive my intrusion Master Bruce, but Master Damian is on the phone.”

  
  
Bruce’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line, and Clark wondered if he should even bother trying to cover their bodies, given Alfred had already seen everything on display. “Is it urgent?” Bruce said as evenly as he could manage, lifting his thigh up by the barest margin in an attempt to obscure himself.

“It is, Master Bruce.” Alfred said, his stoic expression doing nothing to betray what his actual thoughts on seeing the two naked men before him were. “I assure you if it hadn't been, I would have chosen a far better moment to intrude. Perhaps one where you weren't scrutinising Mister Clark’s genitals.”

  
  
Bruce didn’t even blink. “Hand me the phone.”

Alfred did just that, entering the room and handing the phone off to Bruce with an aura of indifference Clark was sure only a butler of Alfred's caliber could muster. Once the phone had been handed over, Alfred left without another word and Bruce lifted the receiver to his ear. “Damian? What's wrong?”

  
  
_“Father, there is a cat at the shelter in need of a home.”_

Bruce’s blank expression crumbled in an instant, and his annoyance shone like sunlight through clouds on a rainy day. “Damian, you told Alfred this was urgent. This does not sound urgent.”

  
 _  
_ _“It is urgent father. I'm told that if this cat doesn't get a home soon they'll be forced to put it down.”_

  
  
“Damian, you have already bought; three cats, two dogs, a quote on quote ‘fleet of guinea pigs’, a rabbit, a raccoon, an iguana, a capybara, and a cow into the Manor. I am sorry, but we physically cannot handle any more animals.”

_“_ _But father-”_

“No, Damian I mean it, no more.”

 _  
_ _  
_ There was silence on the phone for a moment, before Damian’s voice came back holding a distinct edge. _“Father, if you do not allow me to bring Sasquanch home I will be forced to rebel in the only way you have not strictly forbidden.”_

Bruce sighed, closing his eyes.

_“That’s right. I will double my efforts against the alien. I will endeavor to have you realise that the alien is a terrible choice for a paramour; one that you should not even socialise, much less fornicate, with.”_

Bruce’s expression grew more tired. His eyes went to Clark, and after a prolonged sigh, he spoke. “Fine. Bring the cat home, but if you give Clark any ‘attitude’ I will send all the animals off to a ‘farm’ in the countryside. Understand?”

  
  
_“I will give him the usual amount of ire, and nothing more. Understood.”_

  
  
The phone clicked and when Bruce lowered it, he eyed Clark. “You heard all of that, didn’t you?”

  
  
“Bruce, you're less than a foot away from me, even without super hearing, of course I heard all of that.” 

“I perhaps should have spoken in Arabic…” Bruce mumbled. “Or Pig Latin, or maybe I should have just hung up the phone the moment I knew Damian wasn’t in the midst of dying.”

  
  
“ _Or_ , you could have just told me that Damian hates me before now.”

  
  
“He doesn't _hate_ you.” Bruce said with a wave of the hand. “He just distrusts you immeasurably, and believes I have made a foolish mistake in committing to a relationship with you.”

“You’re right, that sounds nothing like hate. Hell, by the sounds of it, we’re basically friends.”   
  


“Okay, _maybe_ there are some emotions involved that _some_ people might say are akin to hatred, but it's only because he wishes for me and Talia to be together. It really has nothing to do with you personally.”

  
  
“He called me 'the alien', Bruce.”

  
  
“Right, but before that he referred to you as the idiot, and honestly, I would say that between the two options, alien isn't _that_ bad.”

Clark only stared at him.

  
  
Bruce pursed his lips. “I'll talk to him about it.” 

“Thank you.” Clark said with a huff. 

“Right, so, with that out of the way.” Bruce cleared his throat. “Coitus.”

  
  
“Right.” Clark nodded, before frowning. “Where were we?”

  
“I was measuring your penis, then Alfred came in.”

  
  
“Ah.'' Clark said, suddenly remembering the moment in vivid clarity. Really, he was going to have to buy Alfred a present for putting up with this shit. “So, now what?”

  
  
“Well, I suppose you better prepare my anus like your life depends on it,” Bruce said as he fell back against the bed, glaring at Clark, “because I don’t want to experience the miasma of suffering you did with the Crotch Rocket.”

  
  
“It wasn’t _that_ bad, Bruce. It's just-” Clark grew quiet as he reached for the lube in the nightstand. “A lot. It's overwhelming, but it doesn't hurt so bad you want to rip your dick off, it's just… A lot, I guess.”

  
  
Bruce frowned. “In what situation would you ever be in so much pain, that your only response would be to rip off your own penis?”

“Well, when Alfred walked in just now, I would have ripped my dick off if it meant distracting myself from the embarrassment.” 

“Alfred’s seen worse.” Bruce said with a wave of the hand, even as Clark pressed a finger into him, he didn’t seem to respond to it beyond a small wince. Clark started to move his finger in and out as Bruce continued, “I mean, I can’t think of what right now, but I’m sure he has.”

  
  
“Wow, thanks Bruce. I forgot how good you were at comforting me.”

  
“Give me a break.” Bruce muttered, his face glowing with a faint sheen of sweat. “You're currently using your fingers in a way that's making it hard to think.”

“You like this, huh?” Clark said, making a point to push his fingers in deeper. “You wait till I find your prostate.”

  
  
“I don’t think-” But Bruce didn’t finish the sentence, letting it hang in the air along with several aborted breaths that sounded like they could be moans if he finished them. He pushed his head back into the mattress and arched himself as Clark pressed that spot again, watching Bruce closely as he did. “ _Stop_!” Bruce managed to get out.

  
Clark pulled his fingers out. “Not good?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

  
  
“You _shit_.” Bruce said, setting those wild eyes on him. “I nearly came from that.”

  
  
“You say that like it's a bad thing.” Clark said fondly.

“I don't want this to end prematurely due to your teasing.”

“Aw, Bruce. I'm sorry. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Clark managed to duck when the tape measure was thrown at his head. “Alright, alright. You made your point. I just need to stretch you a little bit more, okay?”

  
  
“Fine.” Bruce mumbled, crossing his arms. “But if I orgasm, it's your fault.”

  
“Of course.” Clark said solemnly, sliding his fingers back in and taking the time to stretch Bruce rather than delve deeper. It didn’t stop Bruce from whimpering as Clark continued to move his fingers in and out, eventually he felt a hand on his and when he looked up Bruce's glassy eyes, he stopped his movements. “Yeah, babe?”

  
  
“Can you…”

  
  
Despite knowing what Bruce was going to say, he forced his brows together. “Can I...What?” Clark asked.

  
  
Something about the way Bruce's face flushed with red as he looked everywhere but at Clark, settled in Clark's groin and had his cock straining as he waited for Bruce to inevitably crack. “Can you… put it in.”

  
  
“It.” Clark repeated, unable to prevent the slight upturn in his lips as he pondered. “You want the tape measure in?”

  
  
“I-” but Bruce stopped, sitting up and reached for Clark’s shoulder and held it. “Put your cock in me.”

Hearing Bruce say cock will forever be one of Clark's favourite things to hear, and thankfully there was nothing near his penis when it occurred or he was sure Bruce would have ended _him_ prematurely. Clark dropped the act, sending an easy smile Bruce's way. “Okay, babe. Lay back.”

  
  
After applying more lube than was strictly necessary, Clark pressed his cock against Bruce and waited for him to send another impatient frown his way before pushing in. He was tight, so tight that Clark had barely pushed in before thinking he might need to prep Bruce for a bit longer. Bruce on the other hand simply grunted at the instruction and lay there, eyes closed, presumably entering the same meditative state Clark had with the Crotch Rocket. 

He moved at a glacial speed, not wanting to overwhelm Bruce but also not wanting to just say still for ten minutes either. He was moving so slowly, but with such intense consistency, that he wasn't even sure Bruce knew he was moving. That was soon confirmed when Clark was nearly half way in and Bruce opened his eyes, telling him he could keep going.

Clark was somewhat thankful he had super senses on his side, as he was able to keep track of Bruce during the process and ensure he didn’t accidentally hurt him in any way. In the end, it still took awhile for him to get the entirety of his cock into Bruce, but when he managed it, Bruce sent him a resigned smile. “Is it over?”

  
  
“I'm in, yeah.” Clark said softly, patting Bruce's thighs. 

“Yay.” Bruce let out, his head lolling back. Clark had seldom seen him look so disheveled. If he had to equate it to something, it was like Bruce was drunk, his eyes and body on a whole other frequency than his mind. The fact that it was being caused wholly from his penis, had Clark feeling giddy. “It's so _big_.”

  
  
“I know, hon.” Clark said, repeating that same soft putting motion on his thigh. “You want me to try moving?”

  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Bruce marveled, his eyes going wide as he looked to where he and Clark were joined. “We still have to _do_ it.”

  
  
“I mean, yeah, but if you’re feeling a little overwhelmed we can stop.”

  
  
“No no no no.” Bruce said, shaking his head with each ‘no’. When he came to a stop, he continued, “you can move, I'm fine.”

  
“Are you sure?”   
  


“Yes.”

  
  
Clark however wasn’t convinced. “Are you really sure?”

  
Bruce’s eyes narrowed at him. “If you ask me if I'm sure again, I'll hit you.”

  
  
“ _There_ we go.” Clark said with a nod, smiling at the frown on Bruce's face. “You had me worried there for a minute, you weren’t threatening me with violence. I thought you’d been replaced.”

  
  
“Oh, did you now?” Bruce asked, a small smile on his lips.

  
  
“Oh yeah, like if we had a real ‘body snatcher’ type situation, you wanna know how I'd figure out which the real you is?”

  
  
“Do tell.”

  
  
“I'd say ‘I love you’ in front of the two of you. The fake you would say, ‘I love you, too’, and then you’d say, ‘ew.’ That’s how I'd know.”

Bruce’s face remained stoic for a few seconds, before a sly smile broke out across it. “That's true, I would do that.”

  
  
“How would you know if it was me in that same body snatcher situation?” Clark asked, beginning to pull out of Bruce slowly.

Bruce winced at Clark's movement, but quickly the look faded as he got used to the sensation. Then once Clark began gliding back in, Bruce bit his lip. “I can tell you another time.” He said in a rush.

  
  
“Nah.” Clark said, pushing forward a little faster and pulling back out at the same speed. “I wanna know _now_.”

  
  
“If I told you, it would ruin the mood.”

  
  
“Doubt it.” Clark said, and after pulling back once more begin to thrust in earnest.

Bruce closed his eyes, and despite the furrow in his brow and the quiet pants, he said, “I’d sit in a tub of baked beans and whichever version of you started eating the beans before ravaging me, would be the real you.”

  
  
Clark opened his mouth to object, but then he too began to grin. “I so would.”

  
  
“I know.” Bruce said as he opened his eyes with a roll, but there was a tinge of fondness when he smiled at Clark. “You’re so dumb.”

  
  
“And you’re an asshole.” Clark said, rolling his hips harder. 

“Don’t take this for me being a replacement, but I really do love you.”

  
  
“I know, B.” Clark said, his thrusts getting harder and faster. “You know I know.”

  
“Good.” Bruce managed to get out, his head falling back. “Because that's the only one your getting till you’re on your deathbed.”

  
  
Clark didn’t know if it was Bruce’s body around him, the glide of him against his cock, or Bruce’s words alone, but it didn’t take long for him to come, releasing a series of moans, that left his esophagus much like a string of handkerchiefs leaving a clowns sleeve would; right when you thought the handkerchiefs would finally end, five more showed up in quick succession. As the half for words left his mouth, he gave a few more frantic thrusts and only stopped when he looked down to Bruce’s own cock, and saw the small spurt of cum that shot out before collecting on his stomach.

After they were finished, Clark pulled out before promptly colliding with the mattress beside Bruce. “Well?” Clark asked into the bed.

  
“Well, what?” Bruce said, at least, that's what Clark _thought_ he said. He was still speaking in groans at this point, and the more Clark thought about it, he wasn’t even sure if Bruce had understood Clark in the first place, considering Clark was sure he too wasn’t capable of English at the present time.

He turned his head, and tried to form words. “Was that okay?”

  
  
“Yeah.'' Bruce said, though Clark had a big help in discerning that particular word due to the plethora of nods that accompanied it. It took a few more moments, but eventually Bruce turned his head to Clark. “That was very enjoyable, and the best part…” Bruce trailed off, a lazy smile on his lips. “No dick-capitations.”

  
  
“That's true.” Clark laughed, turning himself till he was on his back. “Well, it's like they say, third time’s a charm.”

  
  
Bruce sat up slightly, though by the looks of it, it took a monumental effort just to get him on his elbows. Once there, he managed to move on top of Clark, bringing his face low until his lips were just above Clark’s. “I do hope we will have a fourth time, and a fifth time and ‘so on and so forth’ time.”

Clark smirked, bringing his hand to Bruce’s hips. “Oh, you can count on it.”

\---

In the end, Bruce didn't brush his teeth before falling asleep, and blamed the cavity he discovered three months later entirely on Clark.

He still hasn't forgiven him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, with each chapter I write of these dorks, I feel like I add more lines to my ever growing list of 'best things I have ever written.'
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the final chapter of this shit show! I wanted to thank all of y'all for your lovely comments and kudos. Honestly, seeing how much you guys love my stuff is what keeps me writing it <3
> 
> As always, let me know your thoughts! You never know, it might encourage me to add more to the Micropeen!Universe XD 
> 
> Until next time <3

**Author's Note:**

> They say first times are awkward, but Bruce and Clark be out here testing the very limits, I swear.
> 
> I really enjoy making Clark and Bruce's relationship all kinds of weird and wonderful and so you just know I had to add to the micropenis!verse, and honestly, I had a whale of a time with Clark and Bruce's banter here. I hope it made you all face palm and cringe just as much as it made me do whilst writing it <3 
> 
> Will they figure out how to solve this quandary, or will this situation defeat out boys? Tune in next time to find out!


End file.
